At Last
by LostAndLonging
Summary: When the curse hit Storybrooke, taking Charming's band to the Enchanted Forest and Emma and Henry to NYC, Killian left the very next night, taking Regina's hidden vial of memory potion with him. After six months, he finds his way back to the Land Without Magic, but things might get more complicated than they are at first...
1. At Last

_Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York city? _

_I'm a thousand miles away, _

_But tonight you look so pretty, yes you do, _

_Times Square can't shine as bright as you._

Killian Jones breathed a sigh of relief as he mounted up on the midnight black steed that Charming had allotted to his use- never even dreaming that he would be using it to run away- and, silently urging the horse forwards, left the small ring of light emitted by the campfire, courtesy of the Evil Queen. He fingered a tiny purple vial as he rode- right now the most precious thing he possessed- also courtesy of the Evil Queen. It was for that tiny bottle he had, seeing as he had tried to take it from a sleeping, heartbroken Regina, quite possibly, risked being incinerated, but as he rode on, he could find no regret within himself. It was a small vial of memory potion; Regina had probably wanted to use it on her son, Henry, but there was only enough for one person, and Killian already knew who he was going to give it to. He found himself smiling, almost unconsciously. _Emma_.

_Bloody hell_.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to turn into some lovesick fool with doey eyes and yearning looks. All it took was a few moments of thinking about the most beautiful, brave, and witty woman he had ever known, and he was a goner.

He had just seen her two days before, and he could still see her smile, hear her 'Good', still remembered the sting of seeing her drive over the town line.

Perhaps he was weak for not being able to be bear Emma's absence for long before he felt like his heart was shattering, but he had to admit that whenever he was with her, he felt whole for the first time in centuries.

A flash of pain seared through him, interrupting his thoughts taking him by surprise, making him utter a muffled grunt of pain. He rubbed the already forming knot on his head where the branch had struck him. Let that be a lesson to him to think about Emma while riding through a forest at midnight, he thought with an inward sigh. Glancing up at the sky, he urged his steed into a canter. He had better move quicker; if he wasn't quick about it the sun would rise and he would be caught in the woods by Charming and the rest of them and have to answer as to why he had decided to go on a midnight stroll on his horse after stealing the Evil Queen's potion. He sighed again, this time not on the inside.

After several hours, as the sky was lightening, Killian pulled his steed to a stop, tilting his head, brows furrowed. Usually, by this time, the birds would be beginning to sing, but instead, all he heard was an eerie silence. Killian knew for a fact that he had not been traveling that noisily, so the question was; who- or what- was it that had been?

His horse began to whinny nervously, skittishly stepping from side to side, while Killian tried to pinpoint where the disturbance was coming from.

Too late, he heard the sound of wing-beats close to his ear. Before he could react, sharp claws pierced into his shoulder, picking him bodily off his steed, who promptly bolted. Turning his head, Killian tried to get a good look at the creature that had picked him up, at the same time trying- uselessly- to draw his cutlass. When he saw it, his eyes widened. The creature resembled a flying monkey; it had black fur, black wings, and the same body shape as an ape. The most disturbing thing about it were the reddish eyes that now stared at Killian with intense hatred, but Killian smiled his trademark smirk in return, suddenly glad that the monkey had grasped his right shoulder instead of his left, thus freeing his hook. He glanced briefly down, his smirk changing to a grimace as he realized that the monkey was stronger than he had realized; they were already almost 50 feet off the ground.

For a moment, he debated whether or not to just gut the monkey then and there, but he had no steed, and would be forced to continue his journey on foot. Also, the drop was too high up to hit the ground without breaking something. And... Killian looked at the now rising sun. If he had his directions right, the monkey was heading in the general direction of one of the largest sea ports in the Enchanted Forest, the one that he had originally been planning to go towards. Of course, it was a little bit more to the west than he would have liked, but it would have to do for now.

Willing the pain in his shoulder to fade, Killian gritted his teeth and settled in for a long flight.

* * *

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he was awoken by the cry of a flying monkey right next to his ear. Snapping his eyes open, he looked down again. They were rapidly descending; Killian recognized the place as the Evil Queen's former palace. Great, just great. Some evil witch must have taken it over in Regina's place. And, considering how Regina had most likely set up some kind of barrier to prevent people from getting inside her castle, a quite formidable one at that. Twisting, Killian stabbed the monkey with his hook while trying to wrest himself free, hoping to land in one of the trees that were now less than 10 feet below. The monkey screeched in pain, and momentarily loosened its grip on Killian, who managed to wrest himself free and fall the remaining 10 feet into the branches of a large tree, and lay there for a moment, groaning, before bracing himself against the trunk and looking around for the blasted monkey.

It was, once again, right next to his ear.

Killian uttered a grunt of pain as the claws dug into his right shoulder again, but this time considerably weaker- he had inflicted a fatal wound, and the creature would be dead soon. Stabbing the creature once more with his hook, he watched as the eyes glazed over and it fell downwards, landing in the undergrowth with a plop. Killian looked around briefly, alert for any more signs of danger, and, finding none, waited a few minutes more before finally deciding it was as safe as it was going to get. Grunting, he began to slowly climb back down the tree, favoring his right shoulder as much as possible- which, unfortunately, wasn't a lot, and once down, pausing for a few moments to catch his breath before resuming his trek, this time on foot.

Several hours passed without incident, and as the sun began to set, Killian found a campsite in a secure hollow that had a large enough overhang to render him invisible from the air. Cursing his steed for running, and himself for not being ready, he set out to try and scavenge something for dinner- the meager supplies he had managed to steal from Charming's band now quite out of his reach, seeing as they had been on his steed.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he lifted up his satchel. For a moment, he panicked, but finally, his fingers made contact with the small, purple vial and he breathed a sigh of relief. Against all odds, the memory potion was safe.

An hour later, right as the sun set, Killian finished his meager dinner of berries and roots and curled up for the night. Within seconds, he was out, his dreams filled with thoughts of Emma.

A few days passed without further incident, and Killian finally made his way to the port, stopping as soon as he came to the harbor in shock, that was rapidly replaced with anger. There, right before his eyes, was his ship, the Jolly Roger, in perfect condition. Only, its flag was just the slightest bit different.

_Blackbeard_.

* * *

He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and the urge to vomit. Shaking his head, he simply poured himself more rum- after all, rum was the solution to everything.

He sighed, the guilt beginning to creep in.

_"I'll make you a deal, Hook," Blackbeard said with a sinister smile_.

_"I propose a duel. If I win, then I win the Jolly, and keep the prince's location for myself. If you win, you win the ship, but lose the prince forever. However... if you are too cowardly to accept my challenge, I'll let you walk away with the prince but no ship. Fitting, don't you think?" Blackbeard paused_.

_"So, what will it be?" Killian glanced at the tear-streaked face of Ariel, and for a moment- just a moment- he considered giving in. Giving damn Blackbeard his precious ship. But then his resolve shattered. Steadfastly refusing to think of green eyes, blonde hair, and a reproving glare, he gave his answer_.

_"Duel."_

Ariel's face, he was certain, would haunt his dreams for the next few months at the very least. With a sigh, he took another swig of rum.

* * *

"I have something of value to trade for a magic bean." God, was he really doing this?

The man sneered at him. "What is it, your ship?" he let loose a loud guffaw. Killian kept his gaze steady, refusing to second-think this. She was worth it. She was _worth_ it.

"Yes."

The other man almost staggered a step backwards, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Killian had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. The man thought his sacrifice was a trap. How ironic life could be, he thought to himself.

"I have no other crew on board," Killian said in the same calm, measured tone. "And this is not a trap, I assure you. Pirate's honor. Good form and all that."

He could tell the man was still suspicious, but then, who in their right mind wouldn't be if the feared Captain Hook walked in and wanted to trade his ship for a bean?

Killian looked straight into the man's eyes. "Go check for yourself, mate. Or, what's more likely, send someone else to do it. I promise you that none of my men are on that ship."

There was a pause, before the merchant ordered 10 of his men to go check out the ship.

Several minutes later, they returned, giving the all clear.

_Am I really going to do this? Trade my ship for her?_ He already knew the answer; a resounding yes. Every day he had been without her, the empty pit in his heart that had been slowly growing smaller and smaller with her had now only become wider and deeper. Every day, his heart cracked further. He had to face it; he could not live without Emma Swan.

He just hoped she would one day feel the same way about him.

* * *

He knocked three times on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet even though this was the third E. Swan he had tried without success. The thought of seeing her, after so long, after almost 6 months of trying to forget her with bar wenches, rum, and plunder, but failing every time, was too strong to resist bouncing up and down like a five year old lad.

The door opened quickly, so quickly he almost jumped backwards, revealing a sight he had longed to see for what seemed far, far too long. Green eyes held his for a moment before looking down- green eyes that held the same mixture of pain, hurt, and betrayal, but now held something else.

"Swan, at last!" he so desperately wanted to surge forwards, to hold her, but then he saw a shape behind her. A very masculine shape.

It hit him like a hammer.

Of course.

Of course she would have a significant other. Regina's curse was supposed to make her happy, right?

"Whoa, there, buddy. Do I know you?" she asked rhetorically, before glancing back at the man behind her. As she turned back, he saw a look that could almost be called love, could certainly be called friendship, or affection, though, he was relieved to see, not yet trust, in her eyes for a second before they hardened.

He felt like his heart had just been shattered into a million pieces.

After months of searching for her, months of heartbreak and solitude, his Swan had found someone else.

"N-no," he stammered. "I-I must be at the wrong apartment. I've been looking for someone named E. Swan, and, well, there are quite a few of you in this city," he finished rather lamely. "I-I guess I'll just... just be off now." without allowing himself to look once more upon the face of the woman he loved, he turned and strode slowly back down the hallway.

**Hey guys, this is my first fanfiction so any reviews/comments would be very welcome! Also, if I accidentally missed a typo or anything like that, please tell me, since I don't have a beta. :)**


	2. Some Love-Sick Fool

_I'm your biggest fan,_

_I'll follow you until you love me,_

_Papa, paparazzi_

It was quite pathetic how short of a time he could stay away from her before wanting, no, _needing _to see her face again.

Within a day of his discovery of Emma's new relationship, he was back there in front of her strange home- apartment, he thinks it was named, pulling out his well-worn spyglass and setting it to one eye. From a distance, he saw her coming out of the door, Henry at her side. To his relief, the man from the day before wasn't with them. He must have not stayed the night.

Or, he had, and had simply not come out of the building with them to walk the boy to one of this world's education centers. Really bad form, to be honest.

Damn the Evil Queen for altering her memories and giving her someone else.

Though, from the way her green eyes had never seemed to truly lose their hardness, even when she was looking at the man behind her- though that could be because she was turning to look at Killian- even Regina's magic hadn't been enough to penetrate Emma's barriers. He wasn't quite sure if that was a comforting thought, or a discouraging one.

As he followed them down the road, keeping a careful distance between himself and the twosome, he found himself wanting to meet the guy that had seemingly captured Emma's affections. He wondered whether he was worthy of her. Did he always support her at every turn, doing everything he could to help her, or did he ignore her, drive her off, use her? From the way she had looked at him, however briefly, he was probably a decent dude.

Killian sighed and told himself he should be happy for her. She had finally found someone, hadn't she? And he would be happy, he decided, as long as he knew that she was happy, that that man would never leave her like Neal had, never ever abandon her or lie to her.

He watched Emma bend down and press a kiss to Henry's forehead- the boy playfully shoving her away while protesting he was too old for that- and then watch her son get into a large, bright yellow vessel of some sort with wheels before turning and walking back towards her apartment. He followed, almost unconsciously, and watched as she stepped back into her apartment.

Several hours later, as the sun was setting and he was aimlessly wandering around one of the many streets in New York, he heard yelling.

"You think you can get away from me?" he winced; he would recognize that voice anywhere. He turned around, wondering who the comment had been addressed to. A man was sprinting down the street, closely followed by Emma who was somehow managing to keep up with his breakneck pace with the strange shoes he had learned were called _heels _on, but the man seemed to be gaining. As he watched, he tried to figure out if this man was the one that had been in her apartment yesterday, or if he had been caught stealing or something.

_Trust his Swan to tail a thief, _he thought with a wry grin. Quite the Savior, she was.

He glanced once more at Emma, noticing a slight limp as she ran- she must have been hurt. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness, all of a sudden wanting to strangle the man who had hurt her. Without a second thought, he turned and ran straight towards the man, trying to look like a normal citizen of New York but failing- he had a feeling black leather jackets that weren't buttoned up all the way and fake hands weren't all that normal around here. Once he was within several yards of the man, Killian increased his pace, hoping to tackle him without the other man noticing.

However, he looked up right as Killian was about to jump, and instantly hit the ground and rolled past the startled pirate, then jumped up and kept running. Emma shoved past him, sending him sprawling, and without a backward glance, kept running.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, brushing dirt off his pants before leaping up and continuing the chase.

Several minutes later, after following the two through alleyways, past parks, and through traffic- all three of them barely managing to not get hit- he managed to get in front of the man once more, and this time, he wasn't ready for the flying leap that ended in a tackle. Killian punched him in the jaw, hard enough to daze but not knock him out, for good measure.

"I could have handled that perfectly well myself, you know," a sharp voice came from right above him. He resisted the urge to smile.

_Same old Swan. _

"I'm sure you could have," he answered, looking straight into her green-gold eyes (and trying not to get lost in them) so she could see his honesty. She seemed taken aback for a second, whether by his reply or by the fact that she seemed to recognize him, he couldn't say.

"You're the strange guy from yesterday, aren't you?" Emma asked after a few seconds of staring. "I trust you found your E. Swan?" the question was not a question, Killian realized. It was a challenge. She was waiting for him to slip up so she could catch him on it. He sighed to himself.

"I did, thank you," he said, gazing back into her eyes. He quickly lowered his gaze when he realized it had become more intense than he had thought, but not before he saw her cheeks pink slightly and her own gaze flick away before hardening. He smiled to himself, then quickly turned back to business as the man began to struggle again.

"We should...dispose of him," Killian said, more quietly than he had intended. Bloody woman, how could she affect him this strongly?

"Yes, _I _should," Emma said pointedly, and Killian took the unspoken cue to back off, releasing the man and standing up. Emma quickly snapped handcuffs on the man's wrist before standing up and dragging him up with her.

"Thanks," Emma said curtly, and this time Killian couldn't resist the urge to smile.

"Anytime, milady," he said, sweeping a bow. His smile grew wider as he saw her roll her eyes.

_Same old Swan. _

"I didn't get your name, yesterday," Emma said, then winced as though she couldn't believe she had just said that.

"C- Killian Jones, at your service," he said, with another flourish, hoping she hadn't noticed his slip-up. From the way a small smirk grew on her face, she probably had, but had put it to the wrong reason.

Honestly, he was fine with that.

"Well, Killian, it was... nice... to meet you again," she said, in a tone of finality. Killian had the sudden urge to ask her out, but he knew better than to actually ask. For one, he was just some random stranger she had met twice. She barely even knew his name, Killian reminded himself. And secondly... Killian fought down the spike of jealously that came with the thought. She already had someone else.

"You as well... Swan, I take it?"

"Emma Swan," she said, holding his gaze for one moment more, before shifting restlessly. He saw her expression change just the slightest bit, and her eyes flicked to him as though to see if he had caught her own slip-up.

"Swan, you're hurt!" he exclaimed, cursing himself for forgetting how she had been limping before. Emma looked at him icily.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine." without giving him a moment to reply, she swiftly turned and dragged her captive away.

He couldn't resist the urge to stare after her like some love-sick fool.

It was true, anyway.

**Sorry for the short chapter ya'll, but I should have the next one up really soon! Like usual, reviews are awesome!**


	3. You Belong With Me

_If you could see,_

_That I'm the one_

_Who understands you,_

_Been here all along._

_So, why can't you see?_

_You belong with me,_

_You belong with me._

Killian slowly opened his eyes to the foggy early morning of New York City. He slowly sat up on the bench he had been sleeping on- not an ideal sleeping place, but then it wasn't like he could ask to Emma if he could sleep in her house- and stood up, for once wishing he could have what the people of this world called 'coffee'. It seemed to wake them up, and right now, he could definitely use that.

Blearily, he started what was becoming his daily walk through the park to get to Emma's apartment, dodging early-morning joggers and trying- and failing- to keep his shoes dry whenever he walked in grass. Taking his spyglass out, he once more watched Emma walk Henry to the vessel he had learned was called a '_bus', _and before he realized what he was doing, he was halfway across the street, luckily managing to have picked a time when there were no people trying to run him over, debating whether or not to call out a greeting.

His dilemma was solved when Emma turned to him, looking slightly surprised for a moment, before a smirk slid over her face.

"Well, look who the cat dragged out of bed," she teased, looking over his figure, and Killian nervously (since when did he do things _nervously?_) tried to smooth his hair down.

"My apologies, love, I didn't sleep all that well this previous night," he said, returning her smirk. Instantly, he saw her wince, her smile faltering for a split second before being replaced with annoyance.

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"Call you what, love?"

"Call me 'love,'" she responded, glare intensifying.

My apologies... lass," Killian said quietly, while carefully evaluating her expression. She looked tireder than usual, he noted with concern, and her eyes were worried and afraid under her annoyed facade.

Emma huffed. "Seriously?"

Killian looked intently into her eyes, worry starting to grow. Something was wrong. He knew it wasn't a good idea to ask, especially only a day after they had 'met', but he couldn't stop himself.

"Are you alright, Swan?" as soon as he said the words, he knew it was a mistake. Her eyes instantly shuttered closed, her expression becoming closed-off.

"Fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do." turning, she strode back to her apartment, ignoring his calls of 'Swan!' behind her.

He had to admit, pickpocketing wasn't quite his style, but his Swan brought many unexpected things out in him.

Once he had several dollars, he bought himself some food at a take-out place (only barely managing to survive in the process), before visiting the flower shop and getting a bouquet of flowers. About an hour later, he was back at Emma's apartment, waiting for her to return- or to exit the building, one or the other. About two hours later, Emma finally came into view, looking harried and exhausted. She stopped short as soon as she saw Killian.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Killian held out the flowers.

"I came to apologize for what I said earlier, lo- lass," he said quietly.

"And so you went to buy _flowers _as well?" she looked more than surprised, she looked almost dumbfounded. He felt his heart ache as he realized no one must have ever done something like that for her. He silently resolved to change that.

"Aye. I hope you like forget-me-nots. I wasn't quite sure which flowers you liked, so I picked what I thought... matched you." He held out the bouquet of flowers out.

"What matches me?" She stood there, not making a move to take the flowers.

Killian awkwardly scratched behind his ear. How was he supposed to tell her why he had picked them without her freaking out? Forget-me-nots symbolized memories as well as true love; there was no way he could say that without her running.

"I... just thought you would rather have something small, but delicate than something huge and grandiose," he finally said.

_Very smooth, Killian. _He scoffed inwardly.

Thankfully, Emma laughed.

"I'm glad you see me as small and delicate," she teased. Then her expression changed into that familiar smirk.

"How about I show you that I am very much not delicate?" her eyes dropped pointedly to his lips, then back up, her smirk widening.

Killian felt his eyes widen, before his own smirk began to grow.

"Oh please, you couldn't handle it," he grinned, unbeknownst to her, echoing her own words from months before.

"Perhaps you're the one that couldn't handle it," she said, her voice becoming softer, more seductive. It took everything Killian had to not grab her and kiss her senseless right then and there.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, a real note of concern, mixed in with longing, evident in his voice.

Emma stared at him for a moment more, ignoring the concern and taking the words as a challenge.

"Very."

_Same old Swan. _She would never turn down a challenge, or any chance to prove her worth, really. He just wished she had a different reason for-

All previous thoughts instantly vanished as she grabbed his collar and tugged him forwards, her lips crashing into his with the same raw ferocity she had shown him in Neverland. He felt his heart begin to throb with hope even as he kissed back hungrily; would this be enough to wake her up, restore her memories? As the seconds ticked by with no change, however, he knew the answer was no.

Killian was the first to pull back this time.

As soon as he did so, Emma's eyes snapped open, suddenly hyper-alert.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I don't know what I was thinking. That-that was... it was..."

"A one time thing, I take it?" he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice and failed. "Don't worry, love, I understand." he turned and began slowly walking away, shoulders hunched.

He was definitely imagining how she called his name softly when he was almost out of earshot.

Or was he?

That night, it poured down rain. He lay, hunched on the cold, hard bench, shivering. He wished he could be inside, where it was warm, but he had already managed to screw things up with Emma a second time around. Still, he reasoned, he could at the very least sit outside her apartment. Come morning, he could leave at first light. No damage done.

Within minutes, he was inside the building again, now shivering so hard he couldn't control his body. He tried to slowly and silently lower himself to the floor outside her door, but his drenched, freezing state made him clumsy, and he ended up making a soft bang as he hit the ground. Hugging his knees to his chest, he hoped against hope that Emma hadn't heard, but within seconds, soft footsteps sounded inside the apartment. Killian made a valiant effort to get himself off the ground, but only succeeded in getting himself off the ground about an inch before falling back down with another soft thump.

The door opened, and even in his current state, he could not keep himself from staring at the siren like creature that stood before him. Her wavy blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, glowing in the semi-darkness (the hall lights were still dimly turned on), and her white pajamas, though hardly ethereal, still seemed to enhance the effect.

Yep. He was definitely going delirious.

"Jones? What are you doing here?"

He tried to reply, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his teeth began chattering so much he couldn't speak. Emma slowly put something down on a table- was that a _knife?_- while still facing him, before reaching down to touch him. As soon as she did so, she gasped.

"God, Killian, you're soaked!"

"Thank you for pointing that out, I never would have noticed otherwise," Killian managed through still chattering teeth. Emma rolled her eyes before looking back down, concern written on her face.

"What the heck were you doing? Sleeping on a park bench in the rain?" Killian winced.

"Something like that, yes," he replied.

"You are an idiot." Emma huffed, before reaching down to grab his hand and then his left arm and hauling him up surprisingly gently, her actions belying her words. "You need to get out of these clothes," she added. Even drenched, freezing, and half-dead with exhaustion, Killian couldn't resist the chance to needle her a little bit. He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

"Really? I hadn't assumed you were so eager for _that, _love," he drawled, his smirk growing as he saw her eyes first widen in surprise, then narrow back down into a glare.

"You're seriously going to go there when you're half dead with cold? You are so totally delirious." she shot another glare at him, then continued, "And you know what I meant the first time. At least take off your shirt. I'll get you a blanket or something."

"You sure you don't want to watch, Swan?"

She huffed, shooting him a glare, and stalked out of the room, leaving Killian to chuckle quietly as she left.

A minute or two later, she returned with a blanket and two towels.

"Sorry, I don't have anything else to give you," she said apologetically, after she gave him a glance that seemed to say 'why am I letting this almost perfect stranger that keeps hitting on me into my house at midnight?', and handed him the three items. Killian smiled slightly. If she didn't have any male's clothes to give him, that probably meant the guy he had seen her with wasn't living with her. He felt a spark of hope rekindle- perhaps he had a chance after all.

Then guilt stabbed through him. She was living a lie, every day of her life. It shouldn't matter that she had friends, a guy, anything. It wasn't _real. _He needed to give her the memory potion, no matter how much he would like a clean slate, a new chance where she didn't know about how _broken _he was... but it was just so tempting.

For a moment, he let himself imagine life like this. Being with her every day, without having to worry about witches and crocodiles and dragons, a life where he wasn't Captain Hook and she wasn't Princess Emma, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, a home that wasn't filled with storybook characters come to life. Never having to worry about the next curse coming and ripping them apart, never having to worry about- anything. Anything but Henry's first date, or how Emma's job was going.

The longing to have a family, especially one with _her, _was so strong he almost missed her next words.

"...okay?" she was asking.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, love?" Emma huffed.

"I was asking if you were okay. I'm guessing the answer is probably not. You're probably going to catch a cold or something. And don't call me love." she pressed a hand against his forehead, and even though he was shivering, her hand seemed cool against the heat of his forehead.

Before he could answer, she sighed in resignation. "Like I thought. Running a fever."

"Does that mean I get to share a bed with you, Swan?"

And he was totally delirious. But at least he could say whatever he wanted to now and blame it on the fever later.

He was almost disappointed when she just shook her head in exasperation, not bothering to answer.

"No, you'll be in the bed by yourself." Killian blinked.

"But then, where will you sleep?"

"On the couch, silly."

"I can't let a lady take the couch." he saw her eyes narrow, and realized he'd said the wrong thing.

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but I'm not a lady, and I have slept on a lot worse things than that couch. There was a period in my life where a carpet felt like heaven, so-" she stopped suddenly, looking down, as if she had not meant to share that part of her life with him.

"Hey." he spoke softly, and her gaze flicked back to his. He slowly raised his hands, giving her plenty of time to shy away from what he was about to do, (he is going to blame that fever for a lot of things tomorrow) and cradled her face gently between his hands.

"I know this is probably overstepping my boundaries, but you are the strongest, bravest woman I've ever met," he said softly. "I would never try and belittle you or think you fragile, Swan." he paused, entranced by the way her eyelashes fluttered as his thumb stroked her cheek.

"I just don't wish for you to suffer because of me." his voice was quieter now, but he continued onwards. "So I'd like you to take the bed." Emma's eyes instantly shot open, the peaceful expression she had worn just moments before changing, and Killian moved his hands, dropping them back down by his sides.

"Nice try, buddy," she shot back- or tried to, but her voice was breathy, no matter how hard she tried to make it normal, and it sent all of his blood rushing south. "You're still taking the bed."

Killian sighed, seeing the familiar look of determination in those green-gold eyes.

"Very well. But what will you tell your son?" he winced as soon as he said it, seeing her eyes harden again in suspicion.

"How did you know I had a son?" Killian looked down, panicking, and then saw a strange emblem on the towel. It was a pirate ship; Killian had to appreciate the irony.

"I... um, just saw the towel, and I just assumed... I'm sorry if I said something wrong," Killian stammered, looking back up. Her eyes softened, though the suspicion didn't entirely vanish.

"How old is he?" Killian ventured.

"Eleven," Emma said softly, the tenderness in her eyes as she spoke about her son almost completely killing his resolve to get her memories back.

"He'll be twelve soon. And... I don't know what I'll tell him. Especially since Walsh..." she trailed off, the worry he had seen earlier resurfacing, before she closed it off and looked back up.

"You should get to bed. Change, hang your clothes up, dry off." Killian swayed a step towards her, unable to resist needling her once more.

"Are you sure you don't want to see?" he asked in his best seductive voice. He didn't miss how her breathing quickened, nor how her face flushed (thank God it was a full moon, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to see it), and grinned.

"You idiot," she shot back, but this time, it didn't seem sharp. Instead, it seemed more fond. Killian had a feeling he could definitely get used to that. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and giving it a tug. "Let me show you to the bedroom." trying to ignore the way her hand seemed to burn his own, but in a pleasant way, he followed, not resisting as she gave him instructions to dry off once more before turning and leaving.

As he began to doze off, perhaps it was his delirium, but he thought he saw Emma hover over him, and felt her gaze burn him.

"Sleep well," she said finally.

(It was probably his delirium.)

**Hey, guys! Like usual, reviews are move valuable than gold, and follows/favorite more treasured than rubies :) If you happen to see any typos/grammatical errors, please tell me as I don't have a beta. **


	4. Every Time We Touch

_**'Cause everytime we touch, I get this feeling,**_

_**And everytime we kiss, I swear I could fly,**_

_**Can't you feel my heart beat fast?**_

_**I want this to last, need you by my side,**_

_**Cause everytime we touch, I feel the static,**_

_**And everytime we kiss, I reach for the sky,**_

_**Can't you feel my heart beat slow,**_

_**I can't let you go, want you in my life.**_

_"What?" Emma stared at the ring, trying to comprehend what Walsh was asking her._

_"Will you do me the honor of being my wife?" Walsh repeated. "I know we've only been dating for four months, but..."_

_"That's... this is..." Emma stammered, feeling the familiar panic (wait, familiar? She hadn't been this close to a guy since Neal, right? Or had she? Her memory was foggy...) rising "We've... we've only been together for..."_

_"I know," Walsh said, looking so genuine but something seemed off... _

_And why did she keep thinking of brilliant blue eyes?_

_"But... I..." Emma froze. "...love you." No. No. No. _

_Emma didn't realize she had said the three words out loud until Walsh looked down dejectedly._

_"I'm sorry, I... I need to think about this. I'll tell you... tomorrow? Or the next day? Or sometime soon?" Without waiting for an answer, Emma shoved back the chair, grabbed her purse, and ran out the door, ignoring the guilt that told her she should have stayed and talked it out like an adult, instead of listening to the almost blinding panic that had still not receded. _

Emma groaned as soon as she opened her eyes.

"Why does drinking only sound good the night you do it?" she muttered, rolling out of bed and, slipping on a pair of jeans and a shirt, dragged herself out to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Several minutes later, Henry walked in, rubbing his eyes and still in his pajamas.

"Morning, Mom," he said cheerfully, but Emma's head started pounding with the extra noise. Since when did a little amount of wine make her head hurt that much?

"Wow, you look like hell," he added after a moment. Emma's head snapped around; she instantly regretted it but managed a reproving look anyway.

"Language, kid," she reminded him. Henry just sighed, grabbing some utensils and setting them on the table. They spent a few moments in silence as Emma finished cooking the pancakes and eggs, and then ate in the same comfortable silence. Once they were done, Emma glanced back up at the clock, eyes widening as she realized how late it was.

"Kid, you better get dressed. Bus is going to be here soon," she said, starting to gather up the dishes. She watched fondly as Henry sulkily walked back to his room; he always held onto the hope that she would somehow forget that he needed to go to school.

Half an hour later, she kissed Henry on the forehead, smiling at his usual protest of 'Mom! I'm too old for that!' and watching as he climbed on the bus and faded out of sight. Slowly turning around, memories from last night hit her once more, but right as she was about to start thinking about them, she spotted a familiar black leather jacket. Looking up, she tried to make the worry lines that had been there just a moment previously fade into a surprised look before she took in his disheveled state and felt a smile begin to tug her mouth upwards (since when had one guy been able to make her smile just by looking at him? Not even Walsh could do that).

"Well, look who the cat dragged out of bed." Killian instantly glanced over himself, as if surprised to find himself in that state, and nervously tried to smooth down his hair- it was quite endearing, really- before returning her smirk.

"My apologies, love, I didn't sleep that well last night." Emma flinched; since last night, the word 'love' now struck her in the wrong way. It made her re-feel the panic of last night anew. Quickly, to cover up the flinch, she snapped,

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what, love?" Could he be any more infuriating than he already was?

"Call me 'love'," she snapped back.

"My apologies, lass." his voice was quieter now, and he seemed almost... concerned? No, that couldn't be right, could it? He barely knew her, how could he possibly know what had happened last night?

Act strong, Emma. An annoyed comment always makes them back off a step or two.

"Seriously?" she put all the venom in it that she could, hoping it would be enough.

"Are you alright, Swan?" he replied, looking even more worried.

...at least, it almost always make them back off a step or two.

Well, then. Plan B; shut them out.

"Fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do." she turned and walked away, resisting the urge to run until out of eyeshot.

She was imaging that he called after her, right?

Another job done, and nothing but the urge to go back home and sleep, and try to forget the pair of brilliant blue eyes that seemed to haunt her every step. With a sigh, she decided that soon, they would start haunting her dreams, and she would have no escape from him; she would be trapped.

For a moment, a small part of her whispered, _Being trapped by him wouldn't be such a bad thing. _She promptly shoved the thought away. She still had to deal with her boyfriend. Or whatever he was now. She had no room for Jones, no matter how attractive he might be, and no matter how much of a pull towards him she felt. Then she looked up, and she felt annoyance bubble up inside her, even as that same small part of her wanted to smile as soon as she saw him; felt lighter all of a sudden.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he must be a stalker. That was the only explanation. But... were those _flowers_? A stalker with _flowers_? Was that even possible?

"I came to apologize for what I said earlier, lo- lass," he said quietly, brilliant blue eyes boring intensely into hers, pleading for her to accept the apology. She almost stumbled backwards, so many emotions surging through her at once- gratitude that he had refrained from calling her 'love', guilt because _she _should have been the one apologizing for her actions, but mostly, surprise that someone would go out of his way to buy her _flowers _and wait for her to come home for who knows how long (probably several hours, by the looks of how stiffly he was standing) - though perhaps he was just a stalker- just to apologize for a few words that may or may not have rankled in her for a few moments. Or a few hours.

"And so you went to buy _flowers _as well?" she tried not to sound so surprised, but probably failed miserably- she felt shell-shocked, personally. He kept managing to keep her on her toes, surprising her at every turn, but somehow it felt good, nice even. And that scared her more than anything. She already liked this random stranger that could be a stalker, or a pervert, for all she knew.

But yet... something about him... she felt like she'd known him before. She stared back into his eyes, tilting her head to one side as she saw a brief flash of sadness before he smiled slightly.

"Aye. I hope you like forget-me-nots. I wasn't quite sure which flowers you liked, so I picked what I thought..." he paused. "Matched you."

"What matches me?" she stared at him, not making a move to take the bouquet he had held out. Didn't forget-me-nots signify... memories... or true love, or something?

_Great. That makes two declarations of love in less than 24 hours, if he picked them for that._

"I... just thought you would rather have something small, but delicate than something huge and grandiose." _Liar. _He had another reason for picking the flowers; he probably had just picked a random bunch of flowers and made up a story. Or, he thought she was small and delicate. At least he probably hadn't picked them for the meaning.

_We'll see about that. _

"I'm glad you see me as small and delicate," she teased, laughing, but a glint of challenge gleamed in her eyes as her smile changed into a smirk.

"How about I show you that that is very much not the case?" Jones' eyes widened for a moment, before his own smirk began to grow. _Challenge accepted. _

"Oh, please, you couldn't handle it," he said, smirk widening. Why did those words seem familiar? Emma shoved the words away, her answer coming instinctively.

"Perhaps you're the one that couldn't handle it," Emma shot back, her voice changing into a seductive purr. She couldn't help but take pride in the way he swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, eyes dilating the slightest bit.

"Are you sure about that?" for a moment, he sounded almost... concerned? Worried? Emma once more shoved the thought away; he was issuing her a challenge.

"Very." She surged forward and grasped his collar, pressing her lips to his. For a moment, nothing happened, but then Jones started to respond.

For a heartbeat, she felt something strange happening- an image of a wolf howling, followed by that of Jones standing on a ship at the wheel, people she had never seen before but were strangely familiar standing all around her, before vanishing, leaving a strange empty feeling behind. She tensed, feeling as though a hole she had never noticed was empty before now had grown deeper and wider than she could imagine.

Jones chose that moment to pull back, and Emma instantly panicked. What was she doing, kissing another guy out on the street in New York when she had a boyfriend that had just proposed to her?

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, trying- and probably failing- to stave the growing panic down. No matter how much of a pull she felt towards him, they weren't each other's _True Loves _or something, they weren't soulmates or anything ooey-gooey like that. He was just an extremely attractive guy with an accent that happened to be an amazingly good kisser. "I don't know what I was thinking," she babbled onwards, trying to ignore the hurt she saw in his eyes. "That-that was... it was..."

"A one time thing, I take it?" Jones said coolly, almost bitterly. "Don't worry, love, I understand." Without waiting for her to reply, he turned, shoulders hunching, and strode away. She felt her panic slowly fade and was finally able to breath again. Then the full impact of his words hit her. He sounded... sad. Or resigned, even, behind the bitterness. Perhaps someone else had done the same thing as her; kissed him, then pushed him away.

She couldn't help but think, whoever it was, she should have stayed with him. He deserved someone whole, not broken and battered like she was.

"Jones..." she murmured, before turning back to her apartment.

That night, she couldn't help but worry about Jones. She wondered whether he had a good place to sleep, or had to sleep outside in the pouring rain. She definitely hoped not. Wait, why was she thinking about his well being?

Then she heard a soft thump outside the door. Adrenaline instantly shot through her system, waking her tired muscles up. She padded over to the kitchen to get a knife- just in case- before opening the door. Her eyes widened as she took in the drenched figure lying at her door. They widened further when she realized how his eyes raked over her body, a look somewhere between awe and wonder in his hooded gaze. She felt herself begin to blush, and inwardly cursed the full moon.

"Jones? What are you doing here?" _And are you a stalker? _She wanted to add, wondering exactly why a soaked to the bone Jones' first thought was to sit outside _her _door. She set the knife down on the table- even if he was a stalker, she just didn't get the feeling that he was violent, besides, she could hold her own against a shivering, half-dead man- and reached down, making contact with his sopping leather jacket.

"God, Killian, you're soaked!" she gasped; he was going to catch a cold or something from this.

"Thank you for pointing that out, I never would have noticed otherwise," Killian- since when did she start calling him Killian? - no, _Jones _replied dryly, and she fought the strange urge to chuckle, instead rolling her eyes, before looking back down.

"What the heck were you doing? Sleeping on a park bench in the rain?" she saw Jones flinch, feeling her eyes widen. Seriously?

"Something like that, yes," he replied, still through chattering teeth.

"You are an idiot," Emma huffed, hauling him up as gently as she could. "You need to get out of these clothes," she added, instantly regretting it as soon as she saw the gleam in his eyes.

"Really?" he asked, raising one eyebrow suggestively, making the blood began to rise to her cheeks again. "I hadn't assume you were so eager for _that _love," he drawled. She shot him a glare.

"You're seriously going to go there when you're half dead with cold? You are so totally delirious," she shot back, falling back into the familiar- wait, what? Familiar? What was going on? "And you know what I meant the first time. At least take off your shirt. I'll get you a blanket or something." she started to turn, but before she could move, Killian replied,

"You sure you don't want to watch, Swan?" Emma huffed; if Captain Innuendo wasn't careful, she was going to shove him back into the rain. She shot him another glare before stalking out of the room, hearing him chuckle quietly behind her. Grabbing a blanket and a couple of towels, she re-entered the room.

"Sorry, I don't have anything else to give you," she said, after staring at him for a moment, wondering exactly why she was letting someone that could easily turn into a stalker in her house. Killian smiled slightly, taking the items, before his expression saddened. He looked almost guilty.

"Killian?" no response. "Killian, are you okay?" his gaze snapped back up.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, love?" She chuffed.

"I was asking if you were okay. I'm guessing the answer is probably not. You're probably going to catch a cold or something. And don't call me love." she shot back, putting a hand on his forehead, and ignoring the strange energy that passed between them. She was not going to become some cliche princess that has true love and gets weak in the knees after a kiss.

She had the strangest feeling that that was exactly what was going to happen. Then she felt the heat on his forehead and bit her lip.

"Like I thought. Running a fever," she said with a sigh. Great. Now she had to nurse this random dude she had just met back to health from a fever because he was too stupid to go find shelter when it started to rain.

"Does that mean I get to share a bed with you, Swan?" Emma sighed, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to sound vaguely amused.

"No, you'll be in the bed by yourself."

"But then, where will you sleep?" Emma sighed.

"On the couch, silly."

"I can't let a lady take the couch." Emma's eyes narrowed in anger. First, he had pretty much said he found her small and delicate this morning, now he was saying he couldn't take the bed because she couldn't handle it?

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but I'm not a lady, and I have slept on a lot worse things than that couch. There was a period in my life where a carpet felt like heaven, so-" she froze. She had not meant to delve that far into her past; she shouldn't have said that last sentence.

"Hey," his quiet voice made her look back up, into his eyes. He slowly raised his hands, and Emma instantly realized what he was going to do- she felt a surge of gratitude that he was giving her plenty of time to back away if she wanted to.

"I know this is probably overstepping my boundaries, but you are the strongest, bravest woman I've ever met," he murmured. Emma resisted the urge to sigh with pleasure; she didn't know why but it felt good, right even. "I would never try and belittle you or think you fragile, Swan." his thumb began stroking little circles on her skin, and without realizing it, her eyes had closed. "I just don't wish for you to suffer because of me." his voice was so quiet now that even when they were so close they were practically touching- since when had they gotten that close?- she had to strain to hear his words. "So I'd like you to take the bed." Awareness flooded back in. She could tell he was telling the truth- and she had to admit, it made her heart melt just a little bit- but he was sick; he was not going to take the couch.

The problem was, she wasn't sure she could speak out loud anymore. And now she felt even more cliche; the damsel in distress who couldn't speak after a single caress. It was quite pathetic, really.

"Nice try, buddy," she replied finally, her voice a bit too breathy but functioning. Once again, she didn't miss how he swallowed, his eyes dilating almost alarmingly for a moment before returning to their original blue. She barely noticed that his hands weren't on her face anymore; she could still feel them there, no matter how hard she tried not to. "You're still taking the bed." Killian sighed.

"Very well... but what will you tell your son?" Emma stiffened.

"How did you know I had a son?"

"I... um, just saw the towel, and I just assumed... I'm sorry if I said something wrong," Killian stammered. Emma nodded; he was telling the truth; not the whole truth, but some of it.

"How old is he now?"

"Eleven. He'll be twelve soon. And... I don't know what I'll tell him. Especially since Walsh..." She abruptly shook the thought off. Here she was, about to empty her soul to a stranger. Like she hadn't learned her lesson the first time she tried that.

"You should get to bed. Change, hang your clothes up, dry off," she added. Killian swayed towards her; her first reaction was to catch him, then she realized he was doing it on purpose.

"Are you sure you don't want to see?" Killian purred, and Emma felt her heartbeat quicken, even as the familiar heat rose to her cheeks once more. _Stupid full moon. _She hoped he hadn't seen it, but judging from the way his smirk started to grow, he had.

"You idiot," she said, trying to sound annoyed but once more failing miserably. "Come on," she added, taking his (somehow warm) hand and giving it a tug. "Let me show you to the bedroom." Leading him into the bedroom, she quickly re-told him to dry off, etc. and then walked back out of the bedroom.

About an hour later, she walked back in, unable to sleep until she knew he was sleeping. She gazed at him for a while; he seemed so much younger when he was asleep, without any of the worry lines he had when he was awake.

"Sleep well," she whispered, before turning and exiting the room. She took a deep breath.

_I am falling in love with him. _

And strangely, she didn't feel the familiar fear rise this time.

The next morning, she was roused by a cheery, "Rise and shine, Swan!" and groaned.

"Go away," she muttered.

"Not bloody likely," he shot back. He reached for her arm and gave it a tug, trying to rouse her. It worked; she had taken her shirt off the night before, and she instantly shot awake.

"Don't!" she cried, tugging the blanket back onto herself. For a split second, he looked confused, then spotted her shirt on the floor. She braced herself for the innuendo, but instead was greeted with silence. Looking up, she saw a slight flush to his cheeks.

"I-I'll leave you to get dressed." He started to walk into the kitchen in order to give her privacy, and she quickly dressed, somehow trusting him to not peek.

_I believe in good form, Swan,_the thought came across her head and she shook her head to get rid of it, startled.

"How do you feel this morning?" she called, and Killian glanced briefly at her, then turned all the way around.

"Much better. I must thank you for your services." he said, a small smile gracing his face. Emma tried, without success, to slow her heart rate down.

"Good." She paused, trying to think up a polite way to say, 'now get out of my house', but failing. Fortunately- or unfortunately- he read her mind once again.

"I should probably be leaving now," Killian said softly. Emma nodded.

"Yeah." Killian turned to leave, then hesitated.

"Could... um... would you..." he stammered.

"Yeah?"

"Are you free... this afternoon? Or this evening? Or... anytime soon?" he asked, brilliant blue eyes boring into hers. She blinked once, twice, three times. He was asking her out. No, she quickly told herself. He was trying to repay her for letting him stay the night. From what she had seen yesterday, it's something she would expect of him. Ignoring the guilt of going out with someone else without even telling Walsh yes or no, she nodded.

"I'm free today at around 2," Emma said, ignoring the way her heartbeat sped up once more at his grin.

"Um... I don't know many places around here," he said, grin fading as if that was going to deter her from wanting to go out with him. Wait, what? Since when did she _want _to go out with him?

"Th-that's all right," Emma said. "Do you know of the Starbucks around the corner?" Killian thought for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"Aye."

"We could go there, get some coffee or something?" Great, now _she _was the one asking him out. From Killian's satisfied grin, that was probably what he had wanted from the start. _Idiot. _

"Anything for the lady." Could his grin seriously get any wider?

"Shut up. You're the one that asked me out in the first place," she shot back. Great, his grin could get wider.

"Ah, but you're the one that suggested a restaurant and then asked _me _out."

"Mom?" Emma froze.

"Hey kid. You're up early." Henry looked over to where Killian was standing.

"Did... did he... spend the night?" he looked back to her. "Like... you know?" Emma froze, her cheeks rapidly turning red.

"No! We- we aren't like that!" she glanced over at Killian, expecting him to have that infuriating smirk on, but instead, he was intently staring at her with something that almost looked like longing. _What? _

"Killian, a little help here?" she asked, and he instantly snapped out of it.

"Your mother's right, lad, I simply didn't have a place to stay for the night so she let me take the couch, just for the night," he said smoothly. Henry looked almost disappointed, then he glanced over at Emma.

"And... what are you going to say to Walsh? Are you going to say yes?"

"Henry! We have a guest here, we will _not _talk about that sort of thing!" she was so busy glaring at Henry, she missed Killian's horror-stricken expression when he put the pieces together.

"Fine," Henry said, sulking.

"Killian, you should probably leave now," Emma said, and he nodded.

"Of course, love," he said, turning to leave.

"Don't call me love."

"Of course, lass," he tried next.

"Or lass, either." Killian snorted.

"Of course, _Emma," _he said finally, and Emma tried to ignore that the way he said her name gave her goosebumps; yep, she was definitely fulfilling the cliche princess requirements. She also tried to ignore how Henry was snickering behind her.

She failed, both times.

"Just leave," she snapped, but couldn't get the tiny edge of exasperated amusement out of her tone. Killian bowed, and opened the door.

"Until this afternoon, milady." he shut the door before she could reply, leaving her to Henry's excited questions. 'Are you going to break up with Walsh?' 'Honestly, I don't know, kid'. 'You really have it bad for that guy, mom.' 'No, I do not.' 'Yes, you do.' Emma finally cut it off by telling him to go set the table for breakfast, which he dutifully did, still asking her questions.

"When did you meet him?"

"A couple days ago. He helped me tackle one of my jobs."

"Have you done it yet?"

"Henry!"

"But have you?"

"No!"

"I bet you want to," Henry said, and since when did this kid learn so much about _that? _

"This is no subject for an eleven year old boy to be discussing with his mom."

"You do want to though, you didn't deny it." Emma gave an exasperated sigh.

"He really has it bad for you, too, so don't feel bad."

"What?"

"When I asked you if you had said yes or no to Walsh-"

"Which was not a nice thing to do with a guest that you don't even know in front of you-"

"He looked really sad."

"...What?"

"Yeah. He really has it bad for you." Emma finished making the pancakes and set them on the table.

"If you say so, kid," she said in an end-of-discussion tone, hoping her son would take the hint, which he thankfully did, at least until breakfast was over.

"Are you going on a date with him today?"

"You need to get ready for school." She tried, once more, to stop blushing like a schoolgirl.

"You are, aren't you!"

"He's taking me out to _Starbucks _as thanks for letting him stay over last night," Emma deadpanned. Henry finally seemed to deflate.

"You're no fun, mom." Emma looked up.

"Henry. I only want what's best for you." Henry nodded.

"I know. But not everyone is going to abandon you like my dad did. And sometimes you don't realize what's right in front of you as being what's best for both of us."


	5. Begin Again

_Walked in expecting you'd be late_

_But you got here early and you stand and wave_

_I walk to you, you pull my chair out and help me in_

_And you don't know how nice that is, but I do_

_And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid_

_I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did_

_I've been spending the last eight months_

_Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end_

_But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again_

It was 1:00 and Emma was a mess.

Seriously, it was _Starbucks_and it was supposed to be a _thank you_, not a date, not a fancy dinner, nothing like that. And she was _still_nervous. She knew it was supposed to be casual, but there was a fine line between casual and unattractive; the same fine line she always seemed to end up on the wrong side of, at least where guys were concerned.

Finally settling on a tunic and a pair of leggings, she grabbed a pair of flats before spending about 15 minutes trying to decide what to do with her hair; finally deciding to leave it down, telling herself that if he didn't like it (and since when were her decisions based off of what _he liked_?) then that was all well and good; she would never have to see him again, could accept Walsh's proposal, and get married happily ever after. End of story.

She got there 10 minutes early, expecting to have to wait at least 15 more till Killian showed up. To her surprise, however, he was already there as well, looking comically out of his comfort zone in his strange leather outfit, continually looking around as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

When she walked up, she saw his entire body seem to relax; it wasn't too surprising that he expected her to have stood him up, but regardless, it made a stab of guilt go through her.

"Swan," he said softly, entire face lighting up when he saw her. He looked over her with the same soft smile, and for some reason Emma found herself holding her breath. Shaking her head inwardly while reminding herself that it did _not _matter what he thought of her (and really, did it have to sound less convincing every time she tried telling herself that?) and staring at him in return. He was dressed like he always was- did he even have a spare change of clothes?- but his guyliner seemed to be more smeared this time, as if he had slept on it a day or two and then rubbed his eyes. Which, she reflected, might have been exactly what he was doing.

"See something you like?" she couldn't help asking, watching the way his grin changed into that smirk of his and his eyes glinted mischievously. His eyes dropped pointedly to her lips then back up again.

"Indeed I do, Swan," he drawled. Rolling her eyes at him, she glanced over at the line, then back over at him.

"You want something?" she asked, motioning over at the counter.

"Aye, I do, Emma," he said, this time quieter. She looked over to see what food he had been looking at, only to find him staring at _her. _Feeling her heartbeat quicken, she rolled her eyes and replied as calmly as she could.

"I meant over there, Captain Innuendo," she said, just managing to come out exasperated. Because that was what he had meant, right? He didn't want her emotionally because _no one _could ever love her; no, he just wanted her physically, just like every guy out there who had ever done that.

The thing was, most of the time, she punched them in the face. She never just rolled her eyes and re-asked the question. Why was this one different?

And, why in the world did he look hurt for a second after she replied? After several seconds of silence, she looked back over at Killian, only to see him staring at the display with a completely lost expression on his face.

"Need some help?" his gaze snapped over to meet hers.

"If... you'd be so kind." he stared back up at her intently- almost _intensely- _and Emma once again told herself it was just lust she saw in his eyes, nothing more. She shook her head slightly, shaking herself out of the daze she had fallen into and ignoring the way the sentence seemed so familiar...

"Hmm... well, I don't really know what kind of food you like... Do you prefer sweet, bitter, or salty stuff?" she asked, looking back over at him. To her amusement, he was even more lost than before. She stifled a chuckle.

"I have no idea, Swan," he finally admitted, looking embarrassed. He scratched behind his ear awkwardly, making her have to resist the urge to smile.

"I guess I'll just order for you," she finally said. Without waiting for his reply, she strode over to the counter, placing their order. When she walked back with two drinks and two bags, Killian eyed them warily. Once again, she suppressed the urge to laugh and handed him his drink and pastry, eager to see what his reaction was.

"Go on, eat up," she said, taking a sip from her own drink. He tentatively picked a piece off the muffin and popped it into his mouth, face completely neutral for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Bloody hell, this is amazing," he said, and this time Emma couldn't suppress her laughter. "Swan, it's bad form to tease a man for liking this wo- city's food." he shot her a glare, but his mouth twitched up slightly, and they both laughed for a moment. It continued on like that, each of them sharing bits about their day, or job- turns out he was some sort of captain ('What kind of captain, a pirate captain?' 'Aye, you got me there, Swan'), and she told him about all the losers she had tackled and brought back to where they belonged. After telling him about a particularly exasperating, but funny, job, he started laughing, and Emma stared at him, transfixed, before looking back down at her rapidly vanishing hot chocolate.

Finally, when both of them had finished- taking twice as long as they should have to do so- Killian's expression turned serious.

"Swan, do you trust me?" his brilliant cerulean eyes bored into her green ones, surprise and indecision rooting her to her spot. Did she trust him? She had only ever trusted one person in her entire life- Neal, who had abandoned her. But yet, something about him made her want to trust him... despite how much he was keeping to himself. She could tell he was not telling her everything whenever she asked him a slightly more personal question.

"Do you trust me?" she shot back, knowing what he would say in response- no. Nobody had ever trusted her, to her knowledge, not even Neal. And how could she trust him, if he didn't trust her?

"Aye. With my life." her gaze snapped up to meet his, searching it for any hint of a lie. She found none, but she knew she couldn't trust that; her lie detector had failed her before, and it could do so again.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I- I have to go. I just remembered I had to do something." she stood up, grabbing her bag, fighting down the growing panic.

"Swan!" damn it, he had followed her. "Swan, come back here!" she glanced behind for a brief second, continuing to run, and stumbled, pitching forwards. Before she hit the ground, she felt a strong arm around her waist, re-balancing her. "Swan," the voice said again, pulling her back up and into him. For a moment, she let herself relax as his warmth surrounded her.

"Swan," he said for a fourth time. "Do you trust me?"

"I... I... don't know if I can," she whispered. He loosened his grip on her, and paused.

"Drink this," he said softly, holding a strange, purple vial in front of her. She instantly stiffened.

"You're crazy, right? You think I'm going to drink the thing the stranger that could very well be a stalker gave to me?" she turned around to face him, but his arm was still around her middle, making them _very _close together.

"Swan... have I _ever _told you a lie?" If he hadn't had one arm still around her middle, she might have stumbled again, the sheer raw emotion in his voice almost overwhelming.

"No..." she said quietly, because it was the truth. "But you haven't told me the full truth, either." her voice grew stronger now, knowing what she had to do; she had to push him away, run, and never come back. She pulled away from his arm, which he instantly dropped, and glanced down at the vial once more, trying to ignore the way his eyes sparked with hope when she looked back up.

"So I can't trust you." she grabbed the vial and threw it against the pavement, watching it shatter before turning away and doing what she did best- she ran.

"Swan!" he couldn't breath, couldn't think. All he could see was the shattered crystal lying on the pavement, the memory potion leaking all over the pavement. He hadn't thought that she would drink it, knowing that nothing could make her trust him that fast, but he had been foolish. He had acted without thought, and now his chances were gone forever. There was only one way to cure her now; True Love's Kiss. Except, there was one small problem; he was fairly certain Emma didn't love him, and probably never would. He had, quite effectively, completely ruined all his chances with her.

_What am I going to do? _He wondered. He couldn't exactly pack up and leave; he had only gotten one bean for his ship, never even thinking that he might need a return trip, and he was hopelessly lost in the huge city. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, he could tell her it was a joke, that he was pranking her. Except she had an ingrained lie-detector, so never mind. He uttered a frustrated groan, not caring when passerbys stared at him curiously. He honestly didn't care right now.

_What am I going to do? _He rubbed his forehead, unconsciously heading into a nearby alleyway. There was absolutely nothing he could think of. He sighed, bitterly wondering if Emma had already decided to call up Walsh and tell him she accepted his proposal. Then he shook his head. She would never do that; she was too afraid right now to want anybody near her, except probably Henry. She'd probably spend the rest of the day watching one of the strange phenomenons called _movies _on a strange device called a _television _while drinking hot chocolate with cinnamon. He sighed again. He supposed the only course of action was to apologize for frightening her and asking for a chance to start over. Not a very good plan, and probably not one that would actually work, but it was a start.

Two hours later, he was back in that familiar position; standing in front of Emma's door, one arm raised. With a sigh, he knocked thrice. There was a long silence, and right as Killian was about to walk away, she opened the door.

"You!" she gasped, about to slam the door in his face. He slipped his bad hand between the door and the wall, holding it open.

"Please, Swan, let me explain," he pleaded, blue eyes meeting green.

"You _are _a _stalker_! I always knew you were; that vial was poison, wasn't it?" Killian shook his head vigorously, hurt flashing across his face that she would think he tried to hurt her.

"No! Love, I would never try to poison you, or hurt you in _any way_." Emma just tilted her head, skepticism written on her expression.

"If you don't believe me, use your superpower." her eyes widened a fraction. "Yep, I know about that. Use it. See that I'm telling the truth." Emma stared at him, gaze sharp and cold. He stared right back.

"Just because you believe it wasn't poison, doesn't mean it's true." he rolled his eyes; it was just like Emma to ignore the last part of his sentence about never hurting her in any way. "You are a stalker, right? Whoever your boss is could have given that to you, told you to give it to me, said it was, I dunno, maybe some sort of magic cure or something." he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, Swan. I don't do this very often, so treasure it, love. I've come here to apologize." Emma glared at him.

"Okay, apology accepted. Now _get out._"

"Swan!" she tried to shut the door once again, but thankfully his fake hand was still there. "Ouch, Swan. I'll need to get a new fake hand, you've crushed this one. But please, listen to me." he knew he had to try once more. "Please, Swan, let me try again. Just... please, Swan." she raised an eyebrow, as though urging him to go on. He sighed. "I'm begging you."

"What makes me so special that you're willing to beg to be able to see me again? Do you want to, I don't know, get information off of me? Because, sorry, I don't have any. And even if I did, I would never give it to you." she paused, obviously waiting for his response. "Or is it just the sex?"

"What!?" he sputtered. "No! You are worth so much more to me than meaningless sex!" he ran a hand through his hair, tousling it and likely making it look terrible, but he didn't care. "You are the most beautiful, bloody amazing woman I have ever met. Can you blame me for wanting a chance with someone as amazing as you?" She merely stared at him, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. He sighed, feeling the tiny remaining spark of hope he had had extinguish.

"I... guess I'll see you around then, Swan. Farewell, love."

"Wait!" he spun around so quickly it almost gave him whiplash. "Are you free... Friday night, at around seven? And don't call me love." he felt a grin forming.

"Always for the lady."

"Shut up. I just want to make sure I know you're a stalker before I put you in jail."

"Ooh, are you going to tie me up? Quite the dirty mind you have there, Swan." she was glaring at him now, but he saw the faintest pink blush on her cheeks, the tiniest upward twitch of her mouth.

"In your dreams, Jones," she snapped, which only served to make him chuckle.

"Oh, yes. In yours too," he added with a cheeky grin before turning and striding back down the hallway, heart suddenly feeling lighter. He had a date with Emma Swan- well, she would probably call it a prologue to his butt-kicking, but to him it was a date nonetheless. All of a sudden, things were looking that much brighter.


End file.
